


With a little daring do, oh I’ll fall in love with you

by bloggingbun



Category: The Witcher
Genre: Geralt is emotionally constipated, Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, eventual comfort I promise, geralt definitely has some form of ptsd from his shitty childhood/life, jaskier is a good good boy and wants to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloggingbun/pseuds/bloggingbun
Summary: Geralt’s years of repressing all his emotions finally catch up to him.AKA Geralt wants to love Jaskier but doesn’t know how without letting his guard down, and gods forbid he be emotionally vulnerable.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt knew the feeling in his chest all too well. He’d had it countless, countless times over his lifespan, and he was okay with that. He could deal with getting feelings for someone, as long as he never let it be any more than that.  
As long as he never let them get close to him, as long as he didn’t let his guard down he couldn’t get hurt, right? 

It had started as a one off thing. That night when Jaskier had helped him bathe in that backwater inn before the Cintran ball they had attended, Jaskier had said something to Geralt. 

‘Maybe someone out there will want you.’

Geralt remembered that little look in Jaskier’s eyes, the way he’d squatted down and leaned his arms on the edge of the bathtub. It was so casual, and yet...the idea of being wanted by someone (by Jaskier) caused Geralt’s stomach to knot in what he could only describe as stupid fear.  
Geralt’s walls went up almost immediately. 

‘I need no one’ he’d replied. 

It came out much quicker than intended- it sounded so rehearsed.  
(It was rehearsed.)  
Geralt had told himself this statement a thousand times over, until he was content with his solitude- until he was proud of it. 

If his upbringing at Kaer Morhen had taught him one thing from an early age it was not to get attached to anyone. Ever. 

Many boys in his group he’d befriended, shared beds with, eaten with and worked together with perished in agony during the trial of the grasses. And several of those who were left died as shitty a death as the others, ripped apart by old Speartip in the final trial. 

Geralt had scars that would never heal from his childhood, scars that choked him, forbade him from trusting.  
And yet, Geralt had trusted others countless times over his lifespan, and every time he had let his guard down, let someone in again, he’d been hurt. 

So he was better off alone. Because it was safer this way. He’d gone a very, very long time avoiding people, avoiding any real connections until Jaskier had popped up in his life. 

Geralt paused his deep thoughts to look over at his bardian companion. He’d finished a contract this morning; just a few feeble drowners bothering a nearby town that Geralt had managed to eradicate pretty quickly, and then they’d set up camp in the woods nearby. It was night now, and the fire they’d made was slowly dying, orange embers floating lazily up into the darkness. Jaskier was asleep on a bedroll near Geralt, his chest slowly rising and falling as he slumbered. Geralt allowed himself a few moments of longingly looking at him, before forcing himself to look away again. 

Jaskier terrified Geralt. Terrified him, because Geralt didn’t know what he was going to do if he ended up really falling for him. A funny concept, that such a loud-mouthed, bubbly, feeble bard should hold so much power over a witcher without even realising it, but it was true. 

Every kind touch, every toothy smile, every prolonged eye contact with Jaskier sent Geralt back on his heels.  
He felt like a little animal. Cornered. Scared.  
Geralt was trying so, so hard not to fall in love with Jaskier. He’d never meant for any of this to happen, and now he felt so exposed and-

Anger flared in up Geralt’s addled brain. This wasn’t his fault. This was Jaskier’s-  
if that bard hadn’t pestered him in that tavern and trailed along after him on that contract, Geralt would never be feeling this way.  
He shot the sleeping Jaskier a death stare.  
Geralt could leave him. He could get up right now, pack his things up and ride Roach some place far, far away from Jaskier.  
Yes.  
Perfect.  
Then he’d be safe, then Jaskier wouldn’t be able to get to him- no one would be able to get to him. He’d make sure of it this time. 

Geralt got up decisively, exhaling sharply through his nostrils. He stood there on his bedroll for a little moment, before slowly sitting back down.  
What the hell was he thinking?  
Of course this wasn’t Jaskier’s fault. This is just what he always did. When Geralt couldn’t handle his fear, couldn’t handle his emotions he’d lash out. Find a scapegoat. But this time...  
This time he knew in his heart he couldn’t do that. Not to Jaskier. 

For the first time in a while, Geralt lowered his face into his hands, and tucked his knees up to his chest.  
He’d done this as a little boy at Kaer Morhen after a particularly challenging day. Just curled in on himself, held himself because he knew no one else was going to.  
He didn’t cry (he’d taught himself how to hold his tears in long ago), he just sat there, quietly. Breathing. Trying not to think about Jaskier too much. 

Jaskier had been awake for a while.  
He was quite sensitive to noises when he was falling asleep, and Geralt had been shuffling and rustling for the last half an hour, an incredible annoyance for the bard as he wished to get his beauty sleep for the road tomorrow. Jaskier had decided he’d had just about enough, and he rolled over, lazily opening his eyes to see what Geralt was up to.

He did not expect to see his big, burly Witcher sat up with his face in his hands and- was that Jaskier’s imagination or was he actually trembling? 

Immediately Jaskier was up, quickly making his way over to Geralt. 

“Geralt...? Are you alright there?” 

Geralt didn’t respond. He was trying to put himself into a meditative state to calm down, and was used to blocking out all sounds when he did so.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked again, this time gently reaching to touch the Witcher’s shoulder. 

Geralt’s legs kicked out from where they were tucked up against his chest and he grabbed Jaskier’s arm, twisting it violently. 

“OW! GERALT!” Jaskier yelped, trying to get his arm free. Geralt was clearly as shocked as Jaskier, because it took him a moment of just sitting there and staring at Jaskier while retaining the iron grip on his arm before he let go.

“...sorry” Geralt muttered. “Didn’t realise you were awake.” 

Jaskier cradled his arm with a wounded look on his face, about to go off on a rant before he remembered why he even came over to Geralt in the first place, and he sat himself down beside his Witcher.

Geralt was looking away at the forest floor, praying silently to any kind god that was listening to please just kill him right now because it would be better than having to suffer through the inevitable conversation that was about to happen. 

“Geralt...” Jaskier’s eyes were concerned, searching. “You want to talk about what just happened there? Are you alright?” 

Geralt made himself look at Jaskier, and forced a smile that looked a little bit like he was extremely constipated.  
“I’m fine. I’m tired. I’d like to sleep.”  
Jaskier was silent for a moment.  
“If that’s what you really want, then alright, I’ll let you sleep, but Geralt...I’m here for you, you know that, right?” 

That sentence. Broke Geralt.  
He turned his face away again, taking in a very laboured breath.  
“Fuck off Jaskier just- get away from me” he meant to sound threatening, but his voice cracked a little part way through. 

Jaskier was absolutely bewildered. He’d never seen Geralt so absolutely torn up so...so vulnerable. It broke his heart. Jaskier wanted to help in any way he could.

“Look, Geralt, listen to me- whatever’s bothering you, I’ll come with you and we can go beat the hell out of it together, alright?” He bravely put his hand on the side Geralt’s arm, a little wary of getting the Witcher equivalent of a Chinese burn again. 

Geralt laughed. Hard. Forced. Bitterly. The irony of what Jaskier had just said was somehow hilarious to him.  
“As if I would ever want to hurt you” Geralt grinned, before realising the meaning of the words he’d just spoken.

The silence stretched out like a vast, gaping crevice between them, pushing Geralt away from his best friend and into a dangerous, dangerous place of vulnerability and loss. 

For the second time that evening, Geralt sent a silent prayer to the gods to just be struck down on the spot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more from jaskier’s perspective, Geralt succumbs a little more to his Witcher instincts to protect and care for his bard (mate) and a wild Fiend appears!

It was a very rare moment that Jaskier was at a loss for words, and usually Geralt would count those moments as a blessing, but now he was in turmoil, begging, aching for Jaskier to say something- anything. 

Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes were tentatively searching Geralt’s face, looking for some kind of explanation. 

When he found none other than the most obvious answer, Jaskier spoke again.  
“What do you mean, Geralt?” His laugh was nervous, yet Geralt couldn’t smell the bitter scent of fear on him. 

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Jaskier knew this expression all too well- Geralt was choosing his words very carefully, forming the right sentences in his head.   
He loved it when Geralt did that. He found it sweet. 

Geralt’s thoughts were racing, all the training that had gone to slowing his heart rate down completely abandoned as it pounded in his chest. What to say? How to explain himself without giving away how badly his heart ached for Jaskier, how badly he needed him? How to account for this unexplainable longing without the crushing vulnerability that came with it? 

Geralt opened his mouth again, and this time he spoke.  
“Get some sleep Jaskier. We’ll be on the road for a while tomorrow.”   
And with that, Geralt lay down on his bedroll, facing away from Jaskier.

Jaskier’s first thought was to start screaming. He had been so close, so incredibly close to having some kind of breakthrough with Geralt- the Witcher had all but confessed to him and yet every time some invisible obstacle forced him back. 

Jaskier exhaled loudly, getting up and going over to lie back down on his own bedroll. Bloody Witchers. Bloody Geralt.   
Could he not see that Jaskier was in agony every moment they were together?   
He’d loved him since day one. He loved his eyes, his manners, loved him on his good days, even more so on his bad. Geralt was the first thing Jaskier thought of in the morning, and the last thing he thought of at night and he was an aching mess of emotions that wouldn’t stop pouring out and yet...it was like he was invisible to Geralt.

All the times he’d patched Geralt up after a fight, defended his honour by shouting insults back at anyone who tried to ostracise his Witcher, all the times he’d loved him quietly and fiercely lived within Jaskier’s heart. He needed Geralt so obviously that it was embarrassing but...  
Jaskier scrunched up his eyes, shuffling to get comfortable on his bedroll.  
Geralt probably didn’t need him at all. 

The next morning they got up at the crack of dawn as usual. By the time Jaskier was ready, Geralt was preparing Roach’s saddlebags for the road ahead. Jaskier had resignedly assumed that whatever had happened last night, whatever emotions Geralt had clearly been trying to express had been packed away again, safe behind the Witcher’s walls. 

The ride to the next town over was a long one. It was a chilly day, and as usual by the time they got there Jaskier’s feet were aching, his nose was frozen, and a string of complaints were welled up in his chest that were about to come out at any moment. Geralt sensed this as he swung down off Roach, and handed Jaskier a purse of coins.   
“Go and get us a room at the inn. I’ll go and check the noticeboard for contracts.” Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes for the first time today. Jaskier felt like Geralt was staring him down, those catlike eyes probing him, daring him to mention what had happened last night. Jaskier ignored it, overwhelmed with glee that Geralt wasn’t being so stingy with his money for once.  
“Oh you marvellous Witcher! Thank you! I shall acquire us the most luxurious room they have.” Jaskier beamed from ear to ear.  
“The most luxurious and the cheapest, if you please.” Geralt grunted, patting Roach’s neck as she bent to take a drink of water from a trough.   
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Of course, of course.” and went off into the inn. 

Geralt walked over to the noticeboard, keeping himself to himself as per. He got a few stares, that wasn’t unusual, but since Jaskier had written /that/ song about him, people generally seemed a bit more open to a Witcher visiting town.   
Geralt was in luck- a contract for a Fiend had been posted, with a reward of 350 crowns. That would do very, very nicely.   
He took the contract off the board, and set off to find the woman who had posted it. 

Jaskier, having followed Geralt’s instructions for once, sadly opted for a cheaper room at the inn. This meant there was only one bed between them, but this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Geralt would take the bed, and Jaskier would make himself comfy on the floor. It wasn’t ideal, admittedly, but Jaskier saw how hard Geralt fought in his contracts, how brave and lovely and noble his Witcher was, and he’d conceded that no matter how undignified the floor was, Geralt deserved a nice warm bed to rest up on.

It wasn’t long before Jaskier heard a knock on the door, and jumped up from where he was lazily strumming his lute to open it. Geralt trudged in, unclasping his cloak and tossing it carelessly over a chair.  
“I found a contract for a Fiend. I’m just going to prepare a little, and then I’ll go dispose of it.” Geralt glanced over at Jaskier. “...I’ll leave you some coin to get some food with, but save some for me.”   
Jaskier smiled. He cherished little moments like this. Geralt did care, he could tell, but it was a hesitant caring. Like some weird Witcher mating ritual, Geralt felt the need to provide for his bard, but was too afraid to let his guard down enough to openly admit it. 

“Ta very much! I’m looking forward to hearing the epic tale of how the white wolf slew a fiend later on” Jaskier grinned, as he sat down on the floor and began quietly strumming his lute. Geralt grunted, going over to his bags. The two of them shared a comfortable, domestic silence; Jaskier playing and humming quietly, Geralt preparing oils and brewing potions. 

When Geralt was ready, he slung his sword over his shoulder, checking everything was in place one final time before heading to the door. Jaskier watched him go, surprised when he saw Geralt hesitate just before he left. The Witcher turned around, digging in his pocket before pulling something out and holding it out to Jaskier. Jaskier looked quizzically at Geralt- the Witcher had procured a little dagger with a smooth handle that had a wolf carved into the head.

“What’s that for?” Jaskier set his lute down and stood up. Geralt looked away for a second (gods- was he shy?) before thrusting it towards Jaskier again. “I saw it in town earlier. I thought...well, since you’re travelling with me and it’s dangerous...” he frowned and did that little ‘thinking about the right thing to say’ face before continuing. “You need something other than your lute to defend yourself with.”   
Jaskier took it, admiring the craftsmanship. True, he’d never had a dagger before, and probably would simply stab blindly if confronted with danger, but still.   
How lovely to receive such a gift from one so dear to him.

“Geralt...thank you” Jaskier smiled, meeting Geralt’s eyes, his own shining. Geralt could feel the intimacy of the situation. It was intimidating. He managed a grunt and a nod, before he turned and left, trying to push Jaskier from his mind as he focused on the hunt ahead, but feeling a small sense of satisfaction that he’d left his bard protected. 

Jaskier watched him go with the same small sadness he watched Geralt with every time he left. Still, he was hungry, and there was plenty time left in the evening to compose new songs and maybe meet some new people. 

An hour passed, and Jaskier had eaten his fill in roasted chicken and buttered potatoes.

Two hours passed, and the Bard had performed his heart out to the enamoured crowd at the inn, earning himself a nice purse of coin with which he wished to pay Geralt back for the meal. 

Three hours passed and Jaskier had suddenly found himself feeling a little drained and empty, and he’d decided to return to his room for some solitude.

Four hours passed. Jaskier was worried. Surely Geralt was alright, it was just a fiend, yes? He played his lute to try and calm himself down again, but little was helping. Jaskier eyed the dagger Geralt had given him, which was sitting prettily on the sideboard. A thought gripped him. Geralt had saved his hide so many times over the years, but what if it was Geralt’s hide that needed saving this time? Jaskier jumped to his feet, heart racing at the thought of his Witcher in peril. He could- no, he WOULD go after him. Grabbing the dagger and tucking it into his belt, Jaskier left the inn and headed off towards to forest at speed, wishing all the time he’d fallen for someone less dangerous than a bloody Witcher.

“Geralt? Geraaaaalt?” Jaskier called out. When there was no reply, Jaskier kept walking. The forest was dark, the trees tall and unforgiving. Jaskier began to hum a little to calm himself down, the thought of finding Geralt keeping him busy. 

All of a sudden, Jaskier stopped dead in his tracks. A rustle. A snapping of twigs coming from the clearing ahead. Gripping the dagger at his belt so tightly his knuckles went white, Jaskier advanced. Gods, this was the kind of thing Geralt did for a living? No wonder he was so closed off. This was harrowing to the bard. 

Then, entering the clearing, Jaskier saw a both blessed and cursed sight. Geralt; presumably alive judging by the fact that he was cursing his heart out was trying to get up from where he was lying. Lying, because there was a massive gash in his shoulder, and blood was leaking out of it.   
“Geralt! Oh-“ Jaskier ran to him, helping him sit up.   
“Fuck- Jaskier-“ Geralt was making a strained motion, his breath wheezy.  
“Shh, don’t you worry Geralt, I’m here now and I’ll get you back to safety” Jaskier smoothed the sweaty hair out of Geralt’s face, trying to help him stand.  
“Fu-“ Geralt was making that strange motion again, waving his arm around. Jaskier, happening to follow where Geralt’s arm was leading, turned around.

And came face to face with the wounded Fiend that Geralt had not yet slain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this new chapter! Sorry for any mistakes I may have made! When I played the Witcher games, Fiends were my favourite monsters, so I wanted to have Geralt do a contract for one. If you don’t know what they look like, google it! Funky boys. Anyway, a new chapter will be out soon! Thank you for sticking with me and toss a comment to your author!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier dramatically defends his Witcher in distress from a Fiend! Geralt gets emotional! And there’s maybe even a few confessions! All this and more on today’s instalment of this fanfiction!

‘Fuck’   
probably would’ve been an appropriate response to being confronted with a Fiend. Or ‘shite’. Or anything, really.   
Jaskier, however, found himself unable to articulate anything other than a strained wheeze at the sight before him.

A massive Fiend, demonic looking and most likely angry as all hell was staring him straight in the eyes. One of its horns had been broken off, most likely from its encounter with Geralt. Jaskier, slowly, trembling, pulled the dagger from his belt and pointed it straight up at the monster.

In retrospect, Jaskier thought this was probably a funny sight. A quaking bard with a little dagger was all that stood between a giant Fiend and a wounded Witcher. Jaskier could still hear Geralt’s breathing, more panicked now, more wheezy. It stirred something up inside him. A quaking bard he may be, but he was all that Geralt could count on right now.   
Geralt was in trouble.  
/His Witcher/ was in trouble.  
And that’s all the motivation Jaskier needed.  
For Geralt? Anything.

“F-FUCK OFF” Jaskier bellowed, thrusting the dagger towards the Fiend. “YOU BIG UGLY STINKING FIEND!”   
The Fiend tossed its head.  
Jaskier carried on.  
“I SWEAR ON ALL THE GODS IF YOU DON’T LEAVE US ALONE” Jaskier continued, shouting at the top of his lungs out of sheer fright. “I’LL SKIN YOU AND WEAR YOU AS A PAIR OF BOOTS”   
The Fiend took a little step back, scraping its feet.   
Jaskier had no time to think about what the hell he was doing, and wether or not it was working. If he was keeping the Fiend from Geralt, he was winning.  
“YOU, YOU LUMPY ROTTING CARCASS HEAD ARE NOTHING! NOTHING COMPARED TO THE MIGHT OF JASKIER THE BARD” Jaskier’s voice cracked. “AND GERALT OF RIVIA” 

Jaskier kept the dagger up, shifting his stance. The Fiend was doing nothing and then...slowly, slowly, the forest got darker. Everything got woozier. And all Jaskier could see was a light, a beautiful, terrifying red light. The Fiend’s third eye attack. Jaskier was frozen with fear. He couldn’t speak- he could barely breathe.   
He’d failed Geralt.  
He’d fucked up, like he’d fucked up so many times before.  
And all Jaskier could do was try not to sob as he looked death in the third eye.

And then the Fiend turned tail and absolutely legged it. 

The hypnotism dropped, and Jaskier slumped back, dazed. He had a million questions. Was it coming back? What in the plowing hell just happened? He felt a little touch on his shoulder and whipped around to see that Geralt had managed to stand up, cradling his wounded shoulder. 

“Geralt- oh- thank the gods” Jaskier, overwhelmed with relief and shock and ‘did I actually just scare off a Fiend’ didn’t know what to do other than grab Geralt’s face and kiss him, hard. Geralt was too stunned to even register what had happened, before Jaskier was helping support him to start walking.   
“We need to get you back to the inn and get that shoulder seen to now.” Jaskier spoke determinedly, seemingly unable to stop the words flowing out of his mouth.

Geralt said nothing. He couldn’t, really. He was just focusing on not blacking out from pain. And the fact that Jaskier had just kissed him. He could smell the adrenaline pouring off Jaskier, hear how fast his heart was beating. Geralt wondered how much of that had to do with the Fiend, and how much of that had to do with him. 

The rest of the next few hours were all just hazy to Geralt. At some point he remembered being laid down onto a bed, woozy from blood loss. He felt warm hands on him, heard voices, smelt bitter herbs, and then came sweet, sweet sleep. 

Geralt awoke with a start. He sat up, eyes wide. The Fiend. Fuck- his shoulder. Where was Jaskier? Oh Gods- the kiss-   
“Fuck” Geralt groaned aloud, running a hand through his hair. He was sitting in bed in the room they’d rented at the inn. It was night, so Geralt presumed he’d slept through an entire day. Rubbing his eyes, he moved to get out of bed.  
“Ah ah ah! Oh no you don’t” came a familiar voice, as Jaskier rushed in through the door. He was carrying a tray of what smelled like some kind of broth. Jaskier swiftly set the tray down, only spilling a little as he breezed over to attend to Geralt.   
“Let me get up, Jaskier. I feel fine.” Geralt grunted, clearly not fine. Jaskier smiled softly. “Not a chance. How’s the shoulder?”   
“Mm. Could be better.” Geralt tried to roll it a little, resulting in sears of pain going down his arm. He winced. Jaskier tenderly reached out to touch him, but pulled back.

There was a silence, before they both managed to start speaking at the same time. Jaskier laughed nervously, and Geralt looked away.  
“Do you want to-“ Geralt prompted, trying very hard not to be awkward and failing.  
“Oh no I wouldn’t want to interrupt you”  
“You’re better at talking.”  
“True, true. Alright.” 

Jaskier sat down on the edge of the bed, shuffling his feet a little.   
“I’m sorry for kissing you” he blurted out. “I- It just felt like the right thing to do and I know how you get about emotions and I understand and I get it I just-“ Jaskier wrung his hands. “I...can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you anymore, Geralt.”   
Geralt stared levelly at Jaskier, knowing the bard had more to say.   
“You can hate me forever and I’ll understand and I promise I’ll never come near you again but please just let me say I-“ Jaskier drew in a breathe. “I think you are the most wonderful gift the gods have ever given us and I think you lovely and talented and I have to tell you this because- because you not knowing is breaking my heart” Jaskier finished.   
He couldn’t look at Geralt.

Geralt said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he simply put his arms around Jaskier’s waist and pulled him in close, pressing his face into the crook of the bard’s neck. Jaskier stiffened up, before relaxing softly.  
“Geralt...please say something” he whispered.   
Geralt let out a long, rumbly exhale.   
“Turn around, Jaskier. Look at me.” 

Jaskier shifted so he was sat facing Geralt, practically on his lap.   
“You know I’ve never been good with words” Geralt began. “I...” he looked away. How could he find the right words for this? It was terrifying. He was terrified.  
“I want- I want this” Geralt’s brow was furrowed in concentration. Jaskier listened, patient. Willing.  
“But I...fuck I- I can’t- Jas” Geralt’s heart rate quickened. This was too much. Too close. All he could think about was how Jaskier was going to hurt him. 

Jaskier picked up on the suddenly nasal quality of Geralt’s voice, and gently took his hands, rubbing circles on the backs with his thumbs. “Geralt, love, breathe” Jaskier soothed. And Geralt did breathe, taking in a shaky breath, before he was unable to help himself anymore and he started crying.   
Jaskier’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never seen Geralt cry like this. Never. It was so...vulnerable. How could a giant Witcher look so small?   
Geralt tried so hard to stop, but it was done. The tears just kept coming as he shook silently, trying to form words, anything to explain or justify what the hell he was doing. 

Jaskier put his arms around Geralt, carefully so as not to hurt him, and gently held his Witcher as Geralt buried his face into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier’s scent was calming. Familiar. Geralt breathed deeply, counting his inhaled and exhales, doing everything he could to calm down.  
Eventually, Jaskier sensed Geralt was ready to talk again, and carefully pried himself off him. 

“...forgive me” Were the first words Geralt managed.   
“Forgive you?” Jaskier looked incredulous. “There’s nothing to forgive, Geralt. It’s okay.”   
Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, and he trusted him. Geralt could trust him.   
“I’ve been hurt so often before” Geralt mumbled, like he was ashamed of admitting it. Jaskier gently put his hand on Geralt’s arm.   
“Are you worried that I’ll hurt you too?” Jaskier spoke softly.   
“No- yes- it’s...it’s not personal and deep down I know you’re so good and kind but I just...” Geralt trailed off. “It’s so hard. To trust.”   
Jaskier nodded gently. His heart was breaking over and over for this poor Witcher who’d probably never been treated right a day in his life.   
“I feel like if I’d been stronger I could’ve avoided being hurt” Geralt closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.   
Jaskier frowned. “Geralt, all the shite things that have happened to you...none of it was your fault. None of it. You’re so strong- you’ve always been strong.”   
Geralt looked like that was the first time anyone had ever told him that. And much to Jaskier’s horror, he realised it probably was.

“I...I’m not easy to be with, Jaskier” Geralt’s eyes were flitting about.  
Jaskier laughed at that.   
“Geralt- I’m your travelling companion. You think I mind?”  
“I’m probably not as affectionate as you want me to be”   
“Everybody’s love language is different.”  
“I don’t like to talk much.”  
“I always talk for the both of us anyway”  
“I sometimes don’t bathe for weeks.”  
“Oh that- no that’s disgusting” Jaskier recoiled in mock disgust. Geralt managed a little smile. 

Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s cheek.   
“We don’t have to rush this. I understand how you feel, and I want you to be comfortable, always.”   
Geralt leaned in to the touch. Jaskier was being so gentle with him that it made him want to cry all over again.  
“Hmm” Geralt rumbled, closing his eyes.  
“May I...can we...y’know?” Jaskier looked hopefully at Geralt, who smirked slightly, before leaning in to kiss Jaskier. It was a proper kiss this time, and both of them felt so very loved.

Until Jaskier jerked away.  
“Oh gods, I’ve been meaning to ask- did you see me scaring off that Fiend? I was like a real Witcher! How on earth did that happen?!”   
Geralt laughed, a loud, rumbly laugh.   
“Well, I’d injured the Fiend a fair amount already, and as the bestiary says ‘A Fiend's only weakness is its fear of loud noises’.”   
Jaskier blinked at Geralt.   
“You mean to say I...”  
“You shouted at it so much it turned tail and fled. Yes.”   
“Wow” Jaskier sat back, grinning. “I think I actually deserve another kiss for that, hm?”  
“Don’t get greedy” Geralt laughed, already leaning in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. This was a long one! I am honestly not sure wether or not to continue this fic as although I could end it here, I also have some more story ideas, so please let me know!!! Love you all and thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> HI. This is my first ever Witcher fic, so please be patient with me!  
> I have played the games and seen the Netflix show so there will be some crossovers of content from both but it won’t be too confusing I hope!  
> The (slightly long) title is from the song ‘fear and delight’ by the correspondents  
> ...toss a comment to your author!


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